


A Gut-Wrenching Number

by a_guy_who_really_likes_musicals



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Apocalypse, BAMF Paul, Emma is tired but will Beat Your Ass, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, Panic Attacks, Survival, Survivor Guilt, but he doesn't think he is, i hate that i'm such a theatre nerd that i wrote a fanfic for it but i'll go off i guess, starkid left me on a cliffhanger/sad ending so i had to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_guy_who_really_likes_musicals/pseuds/a_guy_who_really_likes_musicals
Summary: What if Emma weighed the options of Paul destroying the meteor? What if Paul and Emma were to both survive? Never make it to Clivesdale, but try to survive...Paul and Emma learn more about each other as they try and survive the musical apocalypse. Paul is a modest badass, and Emma will do anything to survive.





	1. And When The Pipe In Your Leg Is Gone, And You Don't Even Know Who Did It

**Author's Note:**

> i usually wouldn't write fanfic for musicals but uh,,, im emo about tgwdlm

“Awwwww, fuuuucckkk,”

 

Emma learned her lesson about wearing seatbelts. She’d never been a big fan of blood but could tolerate it, but looking at her leg made her want to throw up.

 

“Emma, This is a bad time but that’s what seatbelts are for!”

 

Oh, thank god Paul was sensible and wore a seatbelt.

 

Another jab of pain. “Shiiiitttt,” she groaned.

 

She noticed Paul fretting over her but afraid to touch her leg. Honestly, he looked like a concerned mother on the verge of a breakdown.

 

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, “You need to go to a hospital… Oh gosh, Emma, we’re still in Hatchetfield we need to get to shore-”

 

Emma involuntarily screamed in pain. “Paul we-we uh, you need to-”

 

That plan would certainly send Paul to certain death. Why would she even think that? Paul would die before reaching the meteor if he even got close-

 

“We need to what? Whatever you need I’ll do it!”

 

God, he was such a nice guy. He’d only known Emma for what, a day? And he’d already do anything for her? Emma really didn’t want him to die.

 

“D-do you know any hospitals that maybe are abandoned? Something- Somewhere we can fix this?”

 

Paul’s head glistened with sweat. “Uh… Oh! There’s this clinic that only for rich people! It like, at the top of the rich-people-neighborhood! There’s only like… two patients a month there.”

 

“I-it’s at the top of a hill right? How are we gonna get there? I can’t even move-”

 

She groaned again like her body was proving the point for her.

 

Paul looked around.

 

“Okay, okay, I have an idea, and it’s morally wrong, and I’ll have to pick you up for it,”

 

“Just please, fucking go for it.”

 

“Okay, okay, okay… If you need to scream, scream into my shirt. Too much noise might bring them to this area…”

 

“Okay.” Emma grunted, “But what are you gonna do?”

 

“Uhm… steal a car? There’s a few with the ignition still on,”

 

Emma cursed in pain again. “Okay well fuck morals I’m going to pass out soon-”

 

“I’m gonna pick you up, please scream into the shirt. I’m also taking grenades and a handgun.”

 

“Good, good,”

* * *

Paul lifted her up. He could feel her screams vibrating through his shoulder.

 

By the time he put her in the backseat of some soccer mom’s van, Emma had blacked out. Paul checked her pulse. She was breathing. He tore off a piece of his sleeve and tied it around Emma’s leg to stop the blood, which he almost smacked himself for forgetting.

 

The car had bloodstains on the seats. Red ones. Whoever used this car was killed in it, and walked out of it a musical-singing slave.

 

God, he never wants to be part of a fucking musical.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

 

Emma awoke to a heart monitor next to her, and no metal pipe in her leg.

 

“Paul?” she croaked. Her throat was really dry.

 

Paul skidded into the room. His light brown hair swept across his face and his eyes lit up in relief.

 

“You’re awake!”

 

She coughed. “W-water?”

 

“Gotcha!”

 

He ran out of the room once more. Emma’s brain finally started to function and she wondered who put her IV, heart monitor, and took the metal pipe out. Did the doctor of the clinic survive?

 

“Haha, I should’ve had this ready but I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up, I thought I put you on too many pain meds,” Paul swiftly walked back into the room with water for Emma.

 

She shakily took a sip of her water. Did… did Paul do all this? She handed the water cup back to him.

 

“You… did this? Who got the pipe out-”

 

“Me. It was gross-”

 

“You?! You set all this up? You fixed my leg? You, office worker Paul?”

 

He looked uncomfortable with her questions. “Uhm… yes?”

 

“How in the world did you know how to do this? Are you a doctor?”

 

“No, but I was in nursing school-”

 

“Why didn’t you help Charlotte when-”

 

Paul looked guilty and Emma felt bad. She wasn’t trying to be mean, she was just curious.

 

“Well, I don’t think it’s possible for a human to survive when ‘it’s brain fell out’-” he bit his lip, “plus I never finished med school so I’m not qualified for anything over IV bags. Your leg was the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I could’ve made it worse but I guess those useless weeks studying for finals paid off, ‘cuz I remembered some things.”

 

Emma hoped she wasn’t coming off rude with the way she was talking. She felt a bit out of it too, she must be on some sort of drugs.

 

“Why… why did you stop going to medical school?”

 

Paul sighed. “My grandparent’s died, leaving me with a whole lotta debt and more adult responsibilities I wasn’t ready for. I was paying for my own apartment and stuff, but not my schooling. They uh, left their money and property to another family member, so I had to get a job.”

 

“That’s a dick move.”

 

Paul chuckled. “What can you do? The money went to someone in Europe. I think they just didn’t want me to have it, they didn’t like me. It was really extra of them to send it to someone in someplace I’ll never find.”

 

Emma still hadn’t moved, she was too interested in Paul’s life.

 

“Well, what about your parents? Did they not help you out?”

 

He leaned back in his hospital chair. “I mean, my mom was a drug addict, and before she overdosed she made sure her parents would have to take care of me. That’s why my grandparent’s hated me so much. I’m a reminder of their daughter who failed in life.”

 

Emma was horrified but couldn’t keep her questions at bay. “A-and… your dad?”

 

“My mom kinda… slept around. She got pregnant and never remembered the deed. Refused to test my DNA too. My dad could be anyone I see walking down the street.”

 

“Paul… I’m so sorry-”

 

“Oh, don’t be. You didn’t illegally deal my mom Xanax. You’re the first person I’ve told that’s not Bill…” he sniffed, voice cracking on ‘Bill’. He stood up.

 

“...Well, you should get some more rest. It’ll be a couple more days until your stitches are good to walk on since you’ve already been out for a couple of days.”

 

Emma did feel drowsy. She stayed silent for about a minute before flipping on her side and burying her face in her pillow. “ Goodnight Paul… tell me more about yourself when I’m sober please…”

 

Paul smiled and walked towards the door.

 

“... you’ve gotta tell me where you got those muscles from,” she mumbled. Paul squeaked and turned around, only to find Emma already snoring.

 

His face was red for the rest of the evening.


	2. Laughing In The Face Of The Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma catches feelings in this weirdly domestic setting... but don't forget about the apocalypse!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw shit, here we go again

It had been six whole days since the meteor hit the innocent town of Hatchetfield. Thursday was the day Emma woke up for the first time after the helicopter crash. So many days alone in a man’s own mind can be torture. And for Paul, it was.

 

His past didn’t affect him too much besides the point of him not being a doctor, he never knew his mom and his grandparents were only discreetly assholes. He did have generalized anxiety disorder though, and the panic attacks were horrible as a child. Luckily, he hadn’t had one since he was a teen, thanks to anti-anxiety pills.

 

Of course, he had to have made progress and stop taking them a week before the fucking apocalypse happened. And let’s just say, the attack of extra-terrestrials on Hatchetfiled caused Paul a whole lot of panic. He counted six during the time Emma was out.

 

Other than freaking out, not sleeping, and stooping around the clinic, Paul kept busy by watching the infected. The clinic was on the largest hill in Hatchetfiled so he could see the entire city from the roof. He had noticed quite a few things.

 

Every evening around 8 o’clock or so, all the infected would gather by the Starlight Theater downtown. During the day, they aimlessly walked around, singing in groups. They never strayed too far from the Starlight.

The clinic was safe from the aliens. The place was closed most days of the week, and Paul knew almost no one used it. They had a lot of supplies for a small clinic though. There were two patient rooms (that’s just how small it was), a kitchen/break room, a front desk, and an office. Plenty of IV bags, surgical tools, and medicine. It was small, but Paul liked that part of it.

* * *

Emma woke up on Friday morning relatively early. She sat in her cot for a bit, disassociating. Paul walked in.

 

“Oh, you’re awake,”

 

“‘Morning…”

 

He coughed. “I, um, lowered the dosage of pain meds,” he pointed to her IV bag, “Are you in any pain?”

 

“Kinda. My leg feels… heavy. Like a bruise.”

 

He nodded. Emma noticed his huge purple and black eye bags. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

 

“When was the last time you slept, Paul?”

 

He looked away, “I slept for a bit last night…”

 

Emma hummed skeptically.

 

After a short awkward silence, Paul sat down in the chair next to Emma’s bed.

 

“I’ve got some things to tell you,” he took a breath, “You were out for six-ish days, and during that time I’ve been watching the infected… I’ve noticed some things.”

 

“I… know some things about them too,” Emma said, remembering her… experience with the professor.

 

“Okay, we should discuss it later. Right now, I’ll bring you breakfast. I think you should be able to eat solids…”

 

Now that he mentioned it, Emma was quite hungry. “What’s there to eat?”

 

“Erm, there’s some eggs in the fridge, I was thinking we could use those before they go bad. How do like your eggs?”

 

Oh shit. Eggs sounded good as hell. “Uh, scrambled.”

 

“Coming right up!” He comically walked out of the room, smiling that goofy smile at Emma.

 

God, Paul… he was just… so strangely amazing. Emma couldn’t believe she never noticed him coming through Beanie’s. He was tall and awkward, with pale blue eyes and light brown hair. He was quite handsome and fit Emma’s tastes. She loved his smile and the way he took care of Emma. It’s was all very endearing, and though Emma has never been and never will be someone of romance, she couldn’t help but yearn for something more with Paul.

 

If only she hadn’t moved back to Hatchetfield. If only the fucking apocalypse hadn’t happened. Maybe in another universe, they could’ve continued to talk at Beanie’s and take everything slow, like a real relationship, with no emergency medical procedures, singing zombies or helicopter-flying baristas. Or maybe they would’ve met another way, a more normal way.

 

Emma just wanted everything to be normal.

 

She couldn’t even imagine what was going through Paul’s mind too. His entire hometown, the place he’s lived his entire life, overrun by zombies who do the things he most hates in one single day. Oh god, he had to watch his friends die… one by one. Those were his friends. His life. It was all gone because of some stupid meteor.

Yet… he still managed to smile at Emma, to make her eggs. It was like… he was trying to make it normal.

 

Emma vowed that as soon as she could stand up, she’d give him a hug. He deserved it.

 

And maybe a light punch. Just to show she could still kick anyone’s ass if she wanted to.

* * *

Emma learned a few new things that Friday morning, like how Paul is an amazing cook (to her because all she ever “cooks” is instant ramen) and how the infected behave.  

 

By noon, Paul and Emma complied a list of all the things they knew about the infected. It was their third time looking over it.

 

“Okay, here’s our theories,” Paul said, eyebrows creased as he read, “The infected have different methods of infecting people, and we used to think someone had to be killed before being infected but… poisoning drinks and puking in people’s mouths don’t involve killing… so if we were to blow up the meteor as you said… those people might still be alive? But what about the whole “genetically reconstructed” thing that Hidgens said..?”

 

“Well, maybe they’re reconstructed so they can live with bullet holes and guts hanging out? Oh! What if it has something to do with decomposition? Like… what if the blue shit prevents them from decomposing… and that’s what makes them different from those movie zombies! ”

 

Paul sighed. “Maybe, it’s a good theory, but I don’t think we can try anything ‘till we know for sure…”

 

“I still think we should try and get off this island and tell some professionals our theories so they can mess with the infected,”

 

“And I agree! It's just that if we call the mainland, so many things could go wrong, Remember PEIP? The infected totally murked those guys and their like… top tier military. Plus, the infected can hear frequencies! What if they hear us calling the mainland?”

 

“Ugh!” Emma grunted in frustration, “I hate feeling this… helpless!”

 

Paul nodded in agreement. “I… We should wait until your leg is better until we make any concrete decisions. In the meantime, I need to re-bandage your leg. Are you up for that?”

 

“Sure. Does that mean I get to see it?”

 

“Yeah, it might be nasty though,”

 

“... I can take nasty, doc.”

 

“Did… did you just do a Bugs Bunny impression?”

 

“Maybe so.”

 

Paul laughed. It was the cutest damn thing Emma had seen in her whole life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comment/kudos! I may not reply to every comment but i do read them and they warm up my heart :'D


	3. Everybody Stinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't much to do during the apocalypse when you're safety is ensured. Maybe shower?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is filler lmao ( im sorry it's so short ) but angst will return ohhohohohohooo
> 
> i really try :')

 

That shit was nasty. Emma decided she’d look away after a couple of seconds because it was already burned in her mind. 

 

It was purple and red, and her stitches stood out so differently from the assortment of colors. Her leg reminded her of Frankenstein's monster. 

 

“Oh wow!” Paul exclaimed, “It’s healing really well!”

 

“That’s well?” Emma asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

 

“Yup! On a scale of 1-10, how’s your pain?”

 

“What are you? Baymax?” she joked. “I’d say a two. But I’m still on painkillers right?”

 

“A low dosage and I’m hoping you’ll be off them by tomorrow. Then we can get to walking!” He gave Emma some jazz hands. That seemed to be his signature hand movement. “Let me know if you feel any pain, okay? I’m going to re-bandage it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Paul softly lifted Emma’s leg and put the bandage under it. He carefully wrapped it around tighter and tighter until fastening it with some safety pins. Emma hadn’t complained once.

 

“And… We’re done! Thanks for being so still.”

 

“No problem.” 

 

There was another awkward silence. 

 

Emma gasped. “I haven’t showered!”

 

Paul raised his eyebrow, obviously trying not to laugh. 

 

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I mean yeah! I haven’t showered in a week! That’s gotta be unhealthy, right?”

 

Paul shrugged. “I washed your leg. If you really want to, there is a shower at this clinic and it works just fine, it’s a lot of effort to shower with an injury.”

 

“You’ve been around me all week when I stink?! I feel so sorry for you,”

 

“It’s really not a big deal. I haven’t showered much either-”

 

“Still! I feel fucking gross. I’ve broken my wrist before, all I have to do is put plastic over it, right?”

 

“Well yeah, but it’s your leg, Emma. I don’t want you to slip and die in the shower. You haven’t even walked yet!”

 

“So then help me up!”

 

Paul’s eyes widened. Once again he was rocking that worried mother look. “Emma, wait, are you sure?”

 

“Yup! I wanna walk!”

 

“I mean, you did kinda walk last time you went to the bathroom…”

 

“I want to go all the way there without any wheelchair this time, Paul!”

 

“Oh god, I was not prepared to do this today…”

 

Emma shifted in the bed, getting prepared to get up. Paul held out his arm.

 

“Just get up on your good leg, if you get hurt I’m sending you back here with Febreze, and you’ll shower with that,” he warned.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Emma got up on her good leg, hopping. Since she hadn’t properly walked in a while, she stumbled into Paul’s chest, getting embarrassingly close to him. After pushing her face out of his chest, which was very solid, might she add, she looked up at him. He stared at the ceiling, and Emma could see a bit of blush covering his cheeks. 

 

Paul coughed awkwardly and took Emma’s arm. “Okay, just uh, put your other leg down slowly, if it hurts just bring it back up, and don’t go too fast because you might pull something and-”

 

“I get it, Paul, chill,”

 

She lowered her slowly, like Paul said, anticipating pain, but as she got closer to the ground she only winced. It felt more like a super large and annoying bruise than it did a row of stitches in her leg.

 

Her leg was set all the way down, and Emma tried to put weight on it. It really hurt. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. 

 

Paul gripped onto her harder, lifting her a bit, taking the pressure off her leg. “Are you sure you want to keep going? It’s alright to stop, there’s nothing wrong with stopping, Emma,”

 

Emma leaned her head on Paul’s bicep. “But I want to try…”

 

“And that’s okay! If you want to try, I’ll support you… literally… and in the other way of course!” he laughed, “We’ll just take it slow!” He gave her the most supporting smile he could. 

 

Emma’s chest warmed. She felt such good emotions bursting from her that she couldn’t even name them. The fact that he said that… not even her parents had ever said that. No one had ever supported her. Yet here was Paul, in the middle of the end of the world, in the intermission of a deadly musical, and he was supporting her. In multiple ways.

 

She pivoted on her good foot, her bad one a bit off the ground. She wrapped her arms around Paul in a hug so big and full of feeling that she didn’t even know she had in her. 

 

“... Thank you…” 

 

They shared a silent moment of peace that day. And if you asked Emma, no, her eyes weren’t watery. And if you asked Paul the same question, he’d give you the same answer. Maybe Emma punched him to make sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am extremely asexual/aromantic so um... writing """romance"""" is really hard for me to do,,, please,,, bear with me 
> 
> all the injury description and stuff is courtesy of a family member who had a removal surgery so idk
> 
> pls comment! I'm enjoying them so much, you guys are amazing!


	4. Look What Happens, Nightmare Time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy wasn't here to stay. The only thing here to stay is alien-invading minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not your seed is my favorite song
> 
> sorry the update took a bit longer but i was having some writer's block so oof
> 
> I'm quite satisfied with this chapter so please enjoy and comment! I love your lovely comments!

Paul took Emma to the kitchen to wrap her bandage in plastic wrap. Emma made it to the shower in triumph and Paul left her alone, to awkward to ask if she needed help when he could hear her struggle. It was night time when Emma got out, but she seemed happy with herself, proclaiming she’d walk even more tomorrow. They said their good nights and left to separate rooms. 

 

Paul slept on the waiting room couch instead of in a room so he could keep watch of the infected, and even though he’d boarded up the windows and doors days ago, he still needed to peek through, just to make sure Emma was safe every night. 

 

He laid down and closed his eyes. Strangely, tonight he fell asleep easily.

* * *

_ A nine-year-old version of Alice stared up at Paul, smiling because he had just told her a story of how her dad brought a cat to their dorm in college. _

 

_ “What happened to the cat?” She asked.  _

 

_ “Well Alice, I’ll tell you that the cat was very smart. We named her Jasmine. She always knew how to get into her food and open the cabinet doors in the kitchen. She caught any rats in the dorm too. But one day, we couldn’t find her. Turns out someone found her roaming around the halls and picked her up. That person was Nicky, your mom, that’s how your dad and mom met!”  _

 

_ Alice was awed by the story. Paul didn’t want to tell her that the cat died about a month later, but she seemed distracted enough by her parents' meeting.  _

 

_ Suddenly the scene shifted to Alice as a fourteen-year-old, who was staying with Paul because her parents were on a date. Or, as she liked to call it “probably fighting”. _

 

_ She turned to Paul, who was watching ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ (their favorite movie) with her. She but her lip and looked away, nervous. _

 

_ “Uncle Paul?”  _

 

_ “Yes, Alice?” _

 

_ “Can girls like… other girls?” _

 

_ Paul smiled at her. “That can mean a lot of things, Alice. Do you mean ‘like like’ or want to be friends with ‘like’?”  _

 

_ Alice bit her nail. “Is it normal… to have a crush on another girl? Because… when my friends describe why they like Josh or Andrew… that’s how I feel about… Claire.” _

 

_ “Claire, huh? She’s the blonde one right? Isn’t she your neighbor?”  _

 

_ “Yeah but… she’s really nice to me and I think she’s pretty… I want to date her like how Marie wants to date Aiden…” _

 

_ Paul put his hand on her shoulder. “Alice, it’s completely fine to like Claire. Girls can like boys or girls if they’d like, as long as they love each other.” _

 

_ She scooted over to hug Paul. “Thank you, Uncle Paul. Should I tell dad?”  _

 

_ The scene shifted once again and Alice stood across from Paul. She was seventeen. The room was all black... like they were floating.  _

 

_ Alice looked up. She stared into Paul’s soul and Paul noticed her eyes were glowing blue.  _

 

_ Bill appeared close to them. He held a gun under his chin. Paul tried racing forward but instead, the gun just floated to his hand. Alice walked toward him and snatched the gun.  _

 

_ “Thanks, Uncle Paul,” She grinned.  _

 

_ Bill walked in front of Paul and broke down sobbing. Paul still couldn’t move. Alice pulled the trigger.  _

 

_ Blood splattered as a distant gunshot rang. Bill slumped over as Alice laughed something that wasn’t her.  _

 

_ Bill slowly got up, his eyes glowing blue.  _

 

_ “Hey… Mr. Business… the blood’s on you…” he sang, pointing to Paul, “Is this really all you can do..? Kill your friends and their families too…?”  _

 

_ Alice joined in. His friends joined in. His co-workers and boss joined in. People he’d seen on the street joined in. The military joined in. Children joined in, people he’d never met joined in. All of Hatchetfield joined in. All he could hear was singing. He killed his best friend. He killed Bill. He killed Bill. He killed Bill. _

* * *

Emma woke up and saw two crutches beside her, something Paul put here last night. She got up on her own, a bit too tired to be proud. She walked around the clinic, checking out every room and looking at Paul’s boarding up job.

 

She got to the waiting room and saw Paul sleeping on the couch. The dumbass didn’t take the other room when there was another bed, and now his back was gonna hurt. 

 

_ ‘How smart’  _ Emma thought to herself.

 

She went closer to him, prepared to wake him up. Then she heard whimpering. It was coming from Paul. As she got closer, the shaking and whimpers were more apparent. She shook him awake. 

 

To her surprise, Paul flinched and awoke quickly, scrambling away to the corner of the couch. He curled up into a really tight ball and brought his (shaking) hands up to his mouth. 

 

Emma sat on the other side of the couch. 

 

“Paul?”

 

His eyes snapped up. All she could see was fear in them. A layer of sweat gathered on his forehead and he mumbled something. He shook harder, burying his face in his knees. 

 

She scooted closer to him. Was… was he crying?

 

“Paul are you okay?” 

 

He didn’t respond, in fact, he acted like she wasn’t even there. But he was mumbling something. 

 

“...everyone’s dead…” 

 

Emma frowned. She moved closer to him. 

 

“Paul? Paul, can you hear me?”

 

His shaking got worse. Emma could hear him breathing. He sounded like he was hyperventilating.

 

“Paul, it’s me, Emma. Can I touch you?”

 

“Emma…?” He sobbed. 

 

He looked up and started to gasp for air instead of responding. He was sobbing, but it was barely audible like he was trying to suppress it. She could hear him trying to force out the word “sorry” over and over again. 

 

Emma didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t exactly great at comforting people. She had to pull out all her stops.

 

“Paul, breathe with me okay?” 

 

He seemed to hear her but couldn’t control his breathing. She decided to do something risky. She snatched his hand and held it firmly. She could feel the shaking under her fingers.

 

“Come on Paul, with me, in… and out. In… and out…” She repeated. 

 

She continued for a minute or two until Paul started to do it with her. Soon enough his tears dried up. He wouldn’t stop shaking though. Everything seemed to slow. 

 

He became still and moved his hand away from Emma. He sat upright and put his hands in his lap, hanging his head. They both stayed silent for a moment.

 

“... I’m… I’m sorry,” he faltered, voice cracking.

 

“Paul-” 

 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I didn’t think-”

 

“Paul!” he flinched at her volume and she lowered her voice, “Paul, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened. You worried me,”

 

Paul wouldn’t make eye contact with Emma. “I’m… really, really, sorry I didn’t mean to- I had a bad dream- god that so damn childish-”

 

“Paul, look at me.” 

 

He faced her but wouldn’t look at her in the eyes. She grabbed his face like she did before he went off to save Alice. “Paul, look at me,” she whispered. 

 

“It’s not childish,” she gave him an encouraging smile, “But I need you to tell me what that was, or else I can’t help you.”

 

He took her hands off his face. “Emma I- I have really bad anxiety,” he hesitated, “And it’s been really hard to control and I had this dream that freaked me out-”

 

“Slow down-” 

 

“And- and I had a panic attack when I woke up and I’m sorry I didn’t control it-”

 

“Paul, listen to me! None of this is your fault, okay?”

 

“Yes! Yes, it is! If I hadn’t dropped that stupid rifle he wouldn’t have died!”

 

“Who died Paul, who?”

 

“Bill!” he snapped. Emma was silenced. 

 

Paul’s eyes went wide as he turned to Emma with guilt. “Shit, I didn’t mean to yell, I-I know you don’t know my friends I’m sorry for getting mad I-”

 

“Paul, it’s okay. I...I remember Bill. I’m fairly certain it’s not your fault he-”

 

“You weren’t there!” Paul exclaimed, “I dropped the gun the professor gave us and those alien things picked it up and shot my best friend right in front of me and I… it was his own daughter… my- my goddaughter that shot him…” he hung his head once more and tightened his fists. “I… I had just as much the responsibility to save her as I did Bill and yet… I let both of them die-”

 

Now that Emma had the full story she was prepared to call bullshit. 

 

“Paul, for the millionth time, listen to me, not your head. None of this-” She gestured to the outside world, “- No one who lost their lives in this stupid ass apocalypse nightmare has anything to do with you. The only people who hold fault, they aren’t even people. They’re blue aliens from another planet that infect humans with their nasty blue shit so they can take over the world. And just from looking at you, I can tell you’re not blue, you aren’t singing or dancing, and you definitely do not have enough energy to take over the world. So for the love of god, stop blaming yourself.”

 

Paul glanced at her, expecting to find her eyes full of resentment and untruthful words, but she seemed genuine. Her eyes spoke to him just as much as her words did, and he decided to believe her. 

 

“I… Emma I… um… thank you.”

 

She smiled at him, expecting him to do the same. He didn’t. 

 

“Paul, can you smile for me?”

 

He looked at her. He smiled. And though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, at least he was trying. Sometimes, trying is just the best you can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nacho girl, nacho girl
> 
> i like parallels lol
> 
> for what i have planned out for this story, this chapter was REALLY LIGHT angst. I don't even think I'm prepared for this shit...
> 
> *ahem* i have pretty bad anxiety and have had multiple panic attacks before. writing them in words is very difficult for me. PLEASE DON'T take advice from this chapter when comforting someone from an attack. everyone is different and everyone will react differently when a panic attack occurs. thank you!


	5. Speedrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster. 
> 
> ALEXA! The stage is set, and IT'S SHOWTIME! THIS IS TRULY HUMANITY'S ELEVENTH HOUR!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet oh fuck
> 
> i think im decaying. jon matteson liked one of my posts on insta recently (ill never tell ya the account haha) and im literally over the moon. also the guy who plays jesus in BoM liked it too. what a confusing day.

 

That afternoon Emma and Paul had lunch over peanut butter sandwiches. Paul washed the dishes while Emma sat at the table, looking through a super dusty phonebook. 

 

“Emma?”

 

“Yeah, Paul?”

 

“There’s no easy way to say this but… our food rations will only last for two more days.” 

 

Emma let that sink in. She still wasn’t able to walk but… they had to leave safety in two days.

 

“Well… can I walk by then?”

 

Paul turned off the sink and leaned into his elbows, looking in the sink in deep thought. 

 

“I… I don’t know Emma… I mean... it’s possible-”

 

“If it’s possible, I’ll do it.” 

 

“Emma-”

 

“What do I have to do?”

 

Paul sighed in an exasperated mother kinda way. “Fine. Fine. You’re lucky I paid attention in college…” 

 

“Well, whenever you want some nice weed to cool off steam you can ask the useless botany student,” she joked.

 

“I would never but at this point maybe.”

* * *

In the evening Paul was going through leg exercises with Emma. She seemed to be doing pretty okay but couldn’t walk as well as she needed to. They both went to sleep or at least tried. Emma actually needed to get rest and Paul also definitely needed to rest, but he decided to stay up and gather weapons and a plan.

* * *

The last day to stay in the clinic rolled by. Emma had been able to do a limp run- more of a stumble, but she was getting there. The whole day they discussed ways for Emma to walk better, where to put her weight, how to balance herself.

 

Paul recited over and over the seminars and homework assignments he received years ago in medical school. He wanted to be as prepared as possible in case Emma got another injury. Not much was useful to deal with crazy blue aliens, but he knew they could be killed. And of course, he had memorized where to stab or shoot or hit someone in a way that could kill them, so that gave him a semblance of hope. He wasn’t sure about his sanity though, because it really felt like it was on its last strings.

* * *

“Okay, Emma! Go!”

 

Emma’s task was to run to Paul who was all the way in the break room, without stopping or hurting herself. If she said so much as “ow” Paul would make her stop. 

 

She was so fucking determined that it got her blood pumping. It was time to bring out those elementary school track and field skills. She took a deep breath and started to go. 

 

Emma carefully remembered to use her weight on her heel on her bad leg and to take longer strides for faster movement. She swung around the doorway of the front room, turning on her good foot. 

 

She got faster, feeling less weight on her legs and full-on running. As long as she didn’t come down hard on her bad foot, Emma could run as fast as the wind. At least that’s what it felt like.

 

Emma slipped into the break room and saw Paul waiting. She stopped at the table at let out a cheer. 

 

“Paul! I did it! We did it!”

 

He stepped over to her and held her arms. “No pain?” He asked.

 

Emma shook her head no. They were both smiling like mad. He rushed into him, wrapping him in a hug. He squeezed her and it felt safe. 

 

She backed away. They gazed into each other’s eyes in comfortable silence. Emma, being the rash person she is, grabbed Paul by the necktie and stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down to her height. 

 

They shared their first kiss in the break room in the middle of a musical apocalypse. And for once, both of them didn’t think about those blue motherfuckers.

 

They pulled away slowly and Paul was the first to speak. 

 

”Um, good job…” he stammered, “I mean the walking not-” 

 

Emma smiled up at him and punched him in the arm. 

 

“Fuckin’ dork.”

 

- **THREE HOURS LATER-**

 

Emma was to keep watch while Paul called 911 on the waiting room phone. They had taken down the boarding on the windows and doors and were fully prepared with weapons. It was around eight or so and the infected should be heading to the Starlight soon.

 

She heard bits and pieces of the conversation but her mind was racing too face to pay attention. She had to actively think about not thinking about the bad things that could happen. 

 

“Okay, yes. I know that! Uh huh… Yes, sir.” 

 

Emma heard Paul slam the phone down. 

 

“We have thirty minutes to make it to the dock, PEIP is landing there.”

 

“Can we really trust PEIP?” Emma questioned. 

 

“The general… he gave me a card with all of PEIP’s contacts. I called one that wasn’t from Clivesdale just to be safe. It’s the town over.”

 

“Only thirty minutes? How are we gonna get there walking?”

 

Paul slung his bag of weapons on his back. 

 

“We aren’t going to walk.”

\---

“Why’re we stopping at this house…?”

 

Paul walked in the garage of said house. It was cluttered. Whoever lived here was infected after putting the keys in the ignition of what seemed to be a nice motorcycle. Poor dude never made it out of the garage considering the bloodstains only resonated on the concrete floor.

 

“Get on.” Paul beckoned. 

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “A motorcycle? What happened to the van?”

 

“I saw this on the way to the clinic. The van was pretty much out of gas.”

 

“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” 

 

“Yeah, I own one,” he retorted. 

 

“What?!”

 

“Stop asking questions we need to LEAVE.” 

 

“Alright cool it,” 

 

She climbed on but had never been on anything close to a motorcycle. 

 

“Um… how do I stay on?” 

 

“Just hold on to my middle. We’re going with no helmets so hold on tight,” he said, turning on the ignition. 

Emma did NOT let out any screams or yelps when they sped out of that garage. She’ll beat your ass if you even imply that she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really tried with the romance i swear. also don't you just love when they go from lovey-dovey to completely chaotic? reminds me of tony and pepper if ya know what i mean. hopefully paul and emma won't have to aBoRt miSSION!! (they wont ;))
> 
> please validate me with comments :D

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos/comments! they're very appreciated
> 
> hope u like them parallels 
> 
> hope i captured their magic (they're simply tragic lol)


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